Chronicles of Morty Smith
by goodgirl275
Summary: A drabble for (maybe) every Morty in the Morty Deck (Pocket Mortys). May or may not actually finish, but I post when I can. Also, I don't own Rick and Morty. There. Disclaimed. #004 Hobo Morty: This Morty lurks around inner city parks, waiting to touch unsupervised dogs without the owner's consent.
1. 001 Morty

#001 - Morty

Male

Height: 5'2'' - Weight: 110.2 lbs

Characteristics: Easygoing

Description: This is your Morty. Don't lose him!

 _ **MYSTICAL SCIENCY LINE BREAK**_

Awareness returned to me like a truck crashing into a wall – you think it will turn, and not hit, but you didn't know the driver was drunk out of his mind and it just straight up crashes. My eyes snapped open to see Surgeon Rick making his way to another dazed Morty in his own upright… cushioned table… pod… recovery thing.

Pushing out of my own healing pod, I made my way to the front of the healing center to meet my Rick, as per usual.

"Mourrrrty!" Uncle Rick burped through my name, blue-green fluid leaking from his lips. "We won! We beat – we beat, uh, Insane Mysterious Rick at his own game! Gooeuud job M-m-m-morty!"

"Ah, geez, th-thanks, Rick!" I bashfully rubbed the back of my neck. _Rick rarely praises me, he must be in a good mood!_

Rick turned and started purposefully striding away from the healing center, cheerfuly ranting about Mega Seeds, Serums, and "gotta catch 'em all!"

I fell into step behind my fellow Mortys, and picked at a new scab I had probably picked up from my latest battle.

For just a moment, the world flickered around me. The normally clean-ish citadel was littered with debris, warning lights staining the scenery a bloody red hue. Ricks and Mortys alike lay dazed or dead on the floor. And Rick, my Rick, who I followed without hesitation… His blue hair was covered with a large black hat.

I stopped fiddling with the scab. The nightmare was over. The Citadel was as (relatively) clean as ever, Bluu and Wimpeebax and other random aliens wandered the area, and Rick's bald spot was as exposed as ever.

I didn't even miss a step as we marched into the swirling green portal.

#001 Morty END


	2. 002 Scruffy Morty

#002 - Scruffy Morty

Male - Rock Type

Height: 5'2'' - Weight: 108.4 lbs

Characteristics: Easygoing, Unconventional

Description: This Morty has never cared much about his appearance.

Quick Disclaimer: Dialogue is taken from Pocket Mortys. I am not Adult Swim, this is not cannon, but it is based on a cannon scene in the game. So... Pocket Mortys tutorial spoiler warning?

Edited: 8/8/17

 _ **MYSTICAL SCIENCY LINE BREAK**_

"Look, another Morty!" I trembled. Please, just leave me alone... "He looks like a scruffier version of me, Rick."

It was a Morty and his Rick. Where is my Rick... Please come back soon.

"Yeah Morty, he must have been separated from his Rick and has become lost and slightly feral." Rick's voice... Even if he wasn't _my_ Rick, it's been so long since I heard his voice...

"Oh Rick that's horrible, we have to help him." Rick told me to wait here for him. I'm not go-go-going anywhere with you guys! Leave me alone!

"If I can hack that chip we found and attach it to him, he'll think he belongs to us." Wait, hack what now? A... chip? No, I gotta w-wait here! You can't make me come with you! "It's going to be tricky though, wild Mortys are easily spooked. We can chase him to wear him out, then catch him as he takes a breath. Let's give it a go." N... No! Who are you calling _wild_?!

The Rick moved forward, his Morty trailing a step behind him. I gotta move! I hurry away from him, but the scientist that looks so much like my own follows me. I run, until I am cornered by a tree, some fence, and there is Rick coming at me from the only open space as I am dragged into battle.

I gotta wait here for my Rick! He's not dead! He'll come back for me, he has to! I slam into the other Morty, hoping against hope that he'll leave me alone. He doesn't go down.

The other Morty's outburst hurts. Gotta... keep fighting! I'm not out yet! Then, I see it. Rick slams an object into me, a device that looks almost like a nailgun that he presses to my temple.

"Wha...?!" My throat is raw and dry, and makes no sound as the chip is implanted. My head is splitting and I fist my hands in the hem of my scruffy shirt. Not like I ever really cared about appearances anyway.

Then... there's Rick. My Rick. He's here now, and I... well, I'd follow him to the ends of the Earth. Yeah, he's an ass, and he abandoned me here for who-knows-how-long, but he's all I have. I'm helpless without him. I can't go home, and go to school and see Jessica in Math class without Rick there. He's... well, he's Rick.

#002 Scruffy Morty END


	3. 003 Unkempt Morty

#003 - Unkempt Morty

Male - Rock Type

Height: 5'2'' - Weight: 109.3 lbs

Characteristics: Stinky, Likes garlic

Description: This Morty refuses to take a bath or brush his teeth. He also appreciates the health benefits of garlic.

A/N - I want to take a second to thank Mylenrawr and Superior Tennyson for the favorites and follows. I really appreciate it!

 _ **MYSTICAL SCIENCY LINE BREAK**_

 **Day 3**

The life of a Morty is hard and treacherous. We are constantly abandoned and abused by our Ricks, and this new trend of "Morty battling" leaves us damaged and in constant need of repair. I have tried not to buy into this new craze, however, my Rick seems to always either be battling me or leaving me at the Morty Daycare to rot in stasis until he picks me up again.

 **Day 8**

I have been here for over a week. I know that writing anything, especially a diary, may seem ridiculous, especially considering my unkempt appearance, but it gives me some stability. I know I'm not that smart, but writing these little notes makes me happy. I don't want to be like the other Mortys. I want... I want to learn, and be smart, and

 **Day 17**

Sorry I got cut off. They tried to give me a bath. Since no one else knows about these notes, I hide them in my underwear. To clean us, they pressure wash us with our clothes on, and I don't want them to ruin these notes. Sure, I look Scruffier than Scruffy Morty, but... It's worth it. At least, it's worth it to me.

 **Day 22**

Rick still hasn't come to pick me up. Sometimes the Guard Ricks will give me presents. One of them has a Beth at home, and she makes the most delicious Garlic Bread. It reminds me of home. It reminds me of mom.

 **Day 29**

The Guard Ricks are giving me more, but also demanding more. when we're let out into the yard, sometimes they will form a wall of bodies and watch me. The council must be so stifling if me stretching, or writing, or even just smiling at them makes them happy. Since they aren't out in the field, they haven't been issued their own Mortys, and I guess the deprivation must be getting to them.

 **Day 30**

This is my last piece of paper. What the Guard Ricks are doing... it isn't right. If anyone finds these, please send help. Please send my Rick.

Sincerely, "Unkempt" Morty

#003 Unkempt Morty END


	4. 004 Hobo Morty

#004 - Hobo Morty

Male

Height: 5'2'' - Weight: 111.7 lbs

Characteristics: Erratic, Likes poodles

Description: This Morty lurks around inner city parks, waiting to touch unsupervised dogs without the owner's consent.

 ** _MYSTICAL SCIENCY LINE BREAK_**

My body is curled under a bush, the tattered remains of a yellow shirt barely clinging to my shoulders. My eyes are unfocused and the sclera pink from infections. The _whuf_ of a friendly dog sniffing around my sheltered copse snaps me to awareness.

I inhale, long and silent. I shift to all-fours, the branches rustling around me. The charming panting and snuffling stops. I glimpse the beautiful beast through a small gap in the branches. It's petite and brown, covered in small curls. It's black button eyes are wide, and it's snout hasn't elongated into the doggie muzzle it will become. I gently stretch my hand out, pushing aside branches in my quest to reach the delicate creature. It stands paralyzed as my hand inches forward.

My fingertips are a hair's breadth away, the toy poodle still regarding them warily, when the frantic cries start. Someone in the grassy enclosure can't find their dog, they tied it to a bench but the leash snapped. My eyes dart back to the puppy, still so close to my fingers. It's attention has been drawn to the yelling, but it hasn't moved.

I pull myself to my feet, snatching the puppy from the ground. It growls and barks, wriggling in my grip, but I am transported by it's coarse, fluffy fur. I clutch it to my chest, torn leash flopping uselessly on the ground, and remember. Before I escaped, before Rick abandoned me, before I even met Rick. Sitting on the couch enjoying a lazy day. Mom and Dad having a rare good day, Summer and I watching boring Earth TV, and Snuffles curled happily in my lap.

And then I'm back, back in the trees, holding a now-stolen dog. It wasn't even the same breed. The toy poodle has calmed in my arms, and I softly stroke it's fur. Gently, I turn the collar so I can read the dog's name engraved on a small, cloud shaped tag.

"S-so your name is J-jessie, huh?" I nuzzle the dog close to my face. "There was a girl I-I liked once, h-her name was Jessica."

I walk slowly back towards the grassy enclosure, taking care to avoid stumbling. It only takes a few steps, but my heart sinks like a stone imagining Jessie bounding away towards her owner.

Since I started living on my own, I have learned how to take care of myself. I scrounge through nearby dumpsters for food, I have water fountains for water, and occasionally I find half-empty bottles of alcohol laying around that I use to take the pain away for a couple hours. My new park is a pretty nice place, though, so it's unlikely I'll find more any time soon. This life… I can't support a dog. Dog's need love and exercise, these things I can give, but I barely have enough food for *me* to eat, let alone another mouth. And I just couldn't take Jessie away from her family, who probably love her more than mine ever loved me.

I stand in the shadows at the edge of the grass, staring at one frantic owner and several other, calmer, adults. All dogs are on leashes, and I feel Jessie's warm body shift in my arms. She wants to go home… She want's to get away from me.

I reluctantly lower her frame, already trying to run in midair, to the ground. Jessie bolts towards her owner, who greets the beloved puppy with a cry of "Jessie!" and a big hug.

As I melt back into the trees, I turn to look at her one last time. Her owner probably won't bring her back again with a scare like that. Jessie stares straight at me, and yawns once before settling in for a nap in her owner's arms.

"Y-you're welcome," I smile softly, and slip back into nature's cruel embrace.


End file.
